


Taste for Fish

by furwaiiey



Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Light Choking, Light Hair Pulling, M/M, Tentacles, face fucking, handjobs, hound/shark mix, husky/tiger mix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furwaiiey/pseuds/furwaiiey
Summary: “Don’t’cha worry lil’ guppy,” Greyjoy practically purrs in his ear the minute they’re away from the docks. He’s leading them in a direction that Kor remembers from last time, a shack on an otherwise abandoned beach that one of Greyjoy’s old seafaring friends lets him stay at whenever he’s in town, “I’ve got some plans for ya tonight.”Kor’s breathing is more labored than he likes it to be when he responds, “I was hoping so.”





	Taste for Fish

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO HELLO this is my first fic in the furry fandom so pwease uwu..... be gentle on me.... uwuw.......... ANYWAYS
> 
> Kor belongs to @OAKorbles on twitter !! and @ Korbles on FA !!
> 
> Greyjoy belongs to @pupbii on twitter !! and @ Rokemi on FA !! 
> 
> It's based off a lovely YCH comic @pupbii / Rokemi did! Check out her stuff if you havent ;3c HERE'S THE YCH COMIC LINK: https://twitter.com/pupbii/status/973363181962711040
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this spicy lil fic !!

The briny air coming off the coast carries with it a scent of adventure and mischief, playful and enticing. It beckons and calls, a siren’s song in the way the waves crash against the shoreline and the call of gulls flying overhead. The hustle-and-bustle of traders and merchants along the docks, the calls of sailors and leisure-travelers out on the water – it all mixes together in one cacophonous mess in Kor’s ears that he only manages to tune out while staring at the water. One can almost forget, standing on the wooden platform overlooking the ships and sailboats coming into harbor, that  behind them all, the city stands, a reminder that they’re not out on an island, in open waters with nothing but the sun and Poseidon’s blessing to guide them. 

Kor shakes his head at where his mind is headed. No need for silly daydreams. He’s here for a reason. A favor, really.  

And that  _ reason _ is sailing towards shore at this very moment. 

From this far away, Kor can’t make out too much of his scallywag of a friend. The hound is partially obscured by the yellowed sail strung up on the mast. The sides of a once-pristine sailboat (well, Kor  _ assumes _ it was once pristine, but he wouldn’t put it past Greyjoy to have purchased the dingy second hand) are scuffed and stained and sporting the occasional barnacle.  _ Worn in _ , Greyjoy calls it. Kor can think of many different adjectives to describe his friend’s boat but  _ worn in _ is certainly one way to describe it, the nicest way. 

The closer he gets, a favorable wind at Greyjoy’s back, the more Kor can make him out. In true sailor fashion, he’s sporting a white shirt with billowy sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the front of which is tied up with cord criss-crossing the length of it. His paws are wrapped in leather with spaces for each individual finger to show through, the brilliant blue of his paw pads visible even from here. Tied around his waist is a dark grey sash, a scarf the same color slung around his neck, serving as a stark contrast to the light grey and white patches of his fur, and the loose burgundy pants wrapped around his legs. 

When he gets close enough, Greyjoy raises a hand and waves it in greeting, his smile widening enough to show off every bit of his sharp teeth. Kor greets his friend in kind, already starting the walk over to where Greyjoy usually drops his anchor. He weaves through the other sailors and those walking the docks, inhaling the air through his nose with a sense of peace washing through him.

It’s been quite some time since he last saw Greyjoy. Their most recent encounter had ended in… quite a heady way. Kor tries not to let his thoughts linger on the feel of Greyjoy’s sleek fur sliding against his, or his claws dragging along his waist, or the smack of their hips together as Greyjoy pushed the length of his brilliant blue cock into him–  

“Oi!”

Kor blinks, yanked out of the exact train of thought he hadn’t wanted to get on in the first place. He tilts his head and glances towards the water, where the dingy he’d just been watching from a distance is anchored to the dock. There, leaning against the mast with a grin splitting his muzzle, is its captain – Greyjoy. The hound gives him a jaunty salute with two fingers pressed to his temple, showing off the sharp rows of his teeth, pearly whites against the black and grey of his muzzle. He pushes himself away from the wooden mast, moving like a shark (which is fitting, all things considered) towards Kor, and grabs the edge of the dock before hoisting himself over with a small grunt.

Like this, Kor can see the brilliant blue of Greyjoy’s sclera, and the magnificent magenta of his irises. Greyjoy is handsome in a dangerous way, sleek fur with sinewy muscles hidden beneath that he knows  _ personally _ now. His paws ache to grab the man in front of him, a want he refrains from indulging in, considering their current location amidst the chaos of the afternoon. Apparently it shows on his face, as Greyjoy’s smile gets impossibly wider and his eyes narrow at Kor, a knowing twitch to his ears as they swivel on his head. He raises one furry brow as he makes his way across the dock in that loping way of his until Kor has to tilt his head up to keep his eyes on his face.

“Well,” Greyjoy drawls in an easy, raspy tone. It makes Kor’s fur stand up on end all over his body, sends a shiver up his spine that he can’t seem to fight. That he doesn’t  _ want _ to fight. “Ain’t you a sight fer sore eyes.” 

“You  _ know _ I’m only here because you asked me to be, right?” Kor teases, shifting on the back of his paws as he settles back enough to look at Greyjoy more fully. The hound snorts at him and shakes his head, that playful smile still present on his muzzle, and Kor finds an arm wrapped around his shoulders, and a body pressed against his side a mere second later. 

“Aye, but if ya didn’t wanna be here, ya wouldn’t be,” Greyjoy barks out a laugh as they start towards the pier, leaving the sea behind them, “I know ye, Kor, can’t act like ye ain’t in it for somethin’...” Kor’s ears perk up at that, ears twitching on the sides of his head in interest. There’s a whisper of air beside him as Greyjoy shifts close enough so when he next speaks it’s only for his ears. 

“‘M sure yer lookin’ for a bit of fun tonight, mate. Wanna have a good time, yeah?” He chuckles, tone raspy and dripping with lascivious promises that set Kor’s blood on fire, “Maybe a lil’ repeat of  _ last time? _ ”

Oh, last time, last time, with Kor pressed against a dirty, unmade mattress and Greyjoy spreading him so  _ wide _ , one ankle hooked over the hound’s shoulder and the other leg splayed on the bed, his tail squished beneath him, Greyjoy’s gills fluttering on his neck with every deep thrust forward and ragged breath out, and the erotic sight of his black tongue with the brilliant blue suction cups on the underside hanging out of his mouth while they both lost themselves to the pleasure. 

Kor sucks in a hiccupy breath, feeling dizzy just thinking about their last encounter. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to what awaits them when they finally find their way away from prying eyes. Hell, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t  _ anticipating _ something like this. His friend does indeed know him – all he’s really searching for is a good time. Greyjoy’s paw squeezes his shoulder as he leads them through the hustle and bustle of the pier, ducking and weaving through sailors, fisherman, and peddlers until their paws connect with concrete and they’re in the familiar city again. All the while, he’s a warmth at his side, an anchor keeping him from floating along on filthy daydreams all involving him.

“Don’t’cha worry lil’ guppy,” Greyjoy practically purrs in his ear the minute they’re away from the docks. He’s leading them in a direction that Kor remembers from last time, a shack on an otherwise abandoned beach that one of Greyjoy’s old seafaring friends lets him stay at whenever he’s in town, “I’ve got some  _ plans _ for ya tonight.” 

Kor’s breathing is more labored than he likes it to be when he responds, “I was hoping so.” 

––––––––––––––––––––––– 

The inside of the seaside shack is just how he remembers. Musty and moist air filtering through the wooden boards that make up the walls and the roof, the rug-covered floor dusted with sand tracked in from the beach just outside the door, a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling their only form of light in the entire shack, which is just about as big as Kor’s bedroom back home. It’s got a rickety bed with a disgusting mattress on it shoved against the wall opposite the door, atop lie thin sheets and a pillow, all of which have clearly seen better days. Hell, Kor feared the entire thing was going to break when he was getting plowed into it last time. It clearly was an act of some sort of deity that kept it from collapsing under their combined weight.

Not that Kor is really looking at any of it. He’s more focused on the hound that is grabbing at his clothes with determination, on the whisper of his ragged voice in his ear, on the salty-tang of the ocean Kor swears he can taste that follows Greyjoy everywhere. Kor reciprocates in kind, using his claws to tug at the laces that keep his friend’s shirt tied, and using his other paw to untie the navy sash around his waist. Every article of clothing they manage to take off the other ends up on the sandy ground beneath them until Kor has Greyjoy’s toned chest pressed against his own. 

Kor braces his elbows against the door that they’d hastily closed, paws hanging uselessly by his side as Greyjoy presses the length of his body against him. One of his paws cups the curve of his ass, claws digging into the black-striped auburn fur covering his backside. Kor’s breath comes out ragged, eyelids fluttering while he focuses on the heat between them, on the cocky smile splitting Greyjoy’s muzzle, on the look in those hooded, hypnotic magenta irises. The way they’re pressed against them, Kor can feel the hard line of Greyjoy’s cock against his own, the heat of it palpable through their underwear, which is the only thing they left on when frantically stripping each other. 

“Well, well, what a nasty boy y’are. Already full chub an’ we ain’t even gotten started yet.” Greyjoy’s smile is in his tone. His hand squeezes Kor’s ass, the pinpricks of pain his claws bring sending electricity up Kor’s spine. Sweat beads on his skin, soaking his fur while he pants in an attempt to keep from overheating. It’s hard to not lose his mind when Greyjoy is using the grip he has on his ass to drag him forward, keeping him steady while he grinds their cocks together. Kor does his best to push against the hound in kind, the friction sparking beneath his skin and settling like lava in his midsection. He peeks up through his black fringe at Greyjoy, watching him intently as he licks at his lips with that tongue of his. 

It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It’s oil-slick black on top, the same brilliant blue as his sclera and nose and paw pads on the underneath. More strange than its coloring is the fact that the underside is clearly covered in suction cups and it is  _ far _ more prehensile than any other tongue Kor has encountered. It reminds him of an octopus or a squid, like tentacles rather than a tongue. It shouldn’t be that surprising–  Greyjoy  _ is  _ part shark after all, though that’s more evident in the fin on his back and at the end of his tail. The tongue is a surprise. It’s… fascinating. And erotic. 

Greyjoy catches him staring at his mouth. Well, more specifically, at the tongue hanging out of his mouth. His smile grows impossibly wider. Kor sucks in a sharp breath when the paw on his backside slides up to the elastic band of his underwear before it wiggles beneath the fabric. The contact has Kor’s insides acting like contortionists, twisting themselves into shapes that he can only fathom at. 

“What’s got yer attention, lil’ guppy?” Greyjoy murmurs, tilting his head in a way that really shouldn’t be sexy but somehow sends a thrill up Kor’s spine. He opens his mouth the slightest bit, just enough so that his tongue is visible in his maw, and Kor curses the way his eyes immediately snap to it, magnetized to them despite how he didn’t want to let his interest show. Part of him hopes – in vain, of course – that his friend didn’t catch where his eyes were. Greyjoy’s dark chuckle is evidence enough that he did, in fact, see where Kor’s gaze was directed.

“Oh hoh, so the kitty’s got an insatiable taste for fish, now does he?” Greyjoy snarks at him. Kor huffs in response, feeling heat flood his cheeks at the gibe. So what if he does? He likes a good time and Greyjoy can give it to him in ways others can’t. Never met another hound quite like him – dangerously attractive, far too smug for his own good, and able to get under his skin with just a few words. His irritation must show on his face, because Greyjoy is tutting at him and dragging him closer. The grin on his face is dark, as is the way he says, “Don’t’chu fuss now, guppy. I’ll give ya all you can eat.”

That’s all the warning he gets before Greyjoy is leaning closer to him, maw opening to reveal more than just the tongue he’d been admiring a few seconds ago. No, there’s  _ multiple _ tentacles hidden in that mouth of his, each just as thick and long as its brother. At first there’s one, then two, then he can’t count any more of them, as they cover his eyes and plunge him into hot, wet darkness. All he can focus on is the pulsing of Greyjoy’s hips as he grinds their clothed cocks together and the never ending tentacles that are slipping out of his mouth. 

They prod at his face, sticky suction cups sliding along his muzzle. He can feel one of them resting on the top of his head, another teasing his ear, yet another wrapping around his neck and twining through his hair. He’s lightheaded already, barely able to breathe just from their grinding, and now this? Greyjoy very well may be the death of him. He has no complaints, though, not when a thick tentacle is sliding into his open mouth, suction cups on the underside an odd sensation against his tongue as it slips into his throat. 

Kor likes the way it feels, somehow. It’s strange and slightly unsettling but… Definitely not gross. It’s like if he was sucking cock. Only far more prehensile, slick and rubbery in texture as opposed to the velvety feel of a dick in his mouth. He lets it explore, rubs his tongue against the underside of it while it shoves itself into the confines of his throat. Greyjoy barely gives him a minute to grow accustomed to the feeling before he’s letting another slide into his mouth. 

It’s hard to keep his mouth open like this. He can feel the stretch in his jaw, the slight tinge of pain as Greyjoy’s tentacles start to fuck his mouth in deep thrusts. It’s like each one has a mind of its own. The one around his neck is tightening just a bit, just enough to press against the sides of his neck and restrict the flow of blood to his head. Like it isn’t already flooding places that are definitely  _ not _ his head. Well. Not his second-story head, that is. Not only that, but the way Greyjoy’s tentacles are fucking into his throat cuts off his airflow with each thrust. 

Kor blinks dark spots out of his eyes, listening to the way he chokes around his friend’s tentacles like it’s another person making those noises. It sounds distant over the rush of blood in his ears. The lack of air in his lungs is starting to get to him. He can feel himself slipping, falling, hurtling into a darkness that’s rapidly taking over his vision. All the while, heat floods his veins, surges through him in a sort of desperate way, cock thick and throbbing in his underwear despite the obvious  _ danger  _ present in the way his head is spinning. 

There’s a paw grabbing at the back of his long black hair. There’s the familiar scratch of claws on his scalp. Then Greyjoy pulls away from him suddenly. His tentacles slide out of his mouth and retreat into his maw, leaving Kor’s face a mess of spit, saliva sticking to his hair and matting the orange fur around his mouth especially.

“Alright, kitty, come back to me now,” Greyjoy soothes at him. He scratches the base of Kor’s tail gently. He focuses on the feeling, grabs onto it like an anchor, lets it steady him as he sucks in gasping breaths. He must’ve  _ really _ been gone, because Greyjoy has a worried expression on his face, something that Kor’s never seen before. The hound watches him with intense eyes. There’s a furrow between his brows that remains there until Kor manages to catch his breath completely. Only then does his friend relax and settle back into the sensual manner of before. 

“There he is – y’doin’ alright?” 

Kor nods, raising a hand to rub at the spit-slick fur on his neck. His throat is sore, which is to be expected after that, but it’s a pleasant sort of ache that comes with sucking on something. Not like he didn’t want to be used exactly like that. Besides… His cock is still hard and aching where it’s pressed against Greyjoy’s, the two identical in length and thickness, and can only be differentiated from one another by the color and texture. Kor’s is a pretty peach color at the base, smooth along the entire length of it, to where the tip is blood hot and leaking come out of the slit. Greyjoy’s, on the other hand, is the same hypnotic blue as his nose and paw pads, save for the magenta colored tip, and is covered in ridges that Kor  _ knows _ feel heavenly when tugging at his rim.

Despite – or maybe  _ because _ of what just happened – they’re both still hard, both leaking precome from the tips of their cocks, both more than ready for more. No harm, no foul, no one’s hurt. He’s just a mite sore, but it’s the sort of sore he craves, the sort of sore that he wants to feel for days after the act, and he knows he’ll be talking hoarse for a week, at least. It’s delicious and he can’t get enough – maybe this kitty  _ does _ have an insatiable taste for fish, but the hound in front of him is more than willing to indulge his guilty pleasures.

Kor glances up at Greyjoy and sees his gaze directed at their lengths, pressed from base to tip alongside each other, and knows he’s thinking the same thing. His balls feel tight. His orgassm must’ve snuck up on him while he was being face-fucked within an inch of his life. By the throbbing of Greyjoy’s ridged cock against his, he must not be far behind. 

“Close,” Kor mumbles. That’s all it takes for Greyjoy to reach down and wrap his big paw around their twitching, leaking cocks. 

Kor braces a paw against the door, the other pressing against his thigh, as he tips his head back with a long groan spilling out of his wrecked throat. He presses his tangled head of dark hair against the rickety wooden door behind him, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on the slide of Greyjoy’s length along his and the friction of his paw pads as he strokes them together. The juxtaposition of his rough pads and his slick fur on their heated lengths has Kor’s breath coming out ragged and staccato. Greyjoy isn’t much better – he’s groaning madly into the curve of Kor’s neck, paw moving so quickly and desperately that Kor knows he’s almost there.

It’s only a bit more, a few more frantic strokes, before Kor’s balls tighten and heat floods his extremities. His cock twitches in that tell-tale way, and a few seconds later he’s coming. It oozes out of him in thick globs, slicking Greyjoy’s paw and making the slide of it against their cocks easier. Kor shakes and sinks his teeth into his lip as best he can, the paw he has pressed against the door shooting out to grasp desperately at Greyjoy’s muscled bicep. He focuses on the way his muscles flex under his skin as he strokes him through his orgasm until Kor is boneless and panting against the door. 

He’s over sensitive and twitching in Greyjoy’s grip, but he still doesn’t stop. His come-covered paw continues to slide along their cocks until the hound grunts with his release. Kor tilts his head and opens his bleary eyes to stare at their lengths disappearing and reappearing in Greyjoy’s paw. It throbs visibly, spurting come out of the tip of it with every twitch, and making a right mess of Kor’s fur. It sticks to the peach-colored fuzz along his midsection, a mess of white streaks on his stomach. 

They stand there, panting and sated (for the moment). Kor’s legs feel like jelly. If it weren’t for the hound in front of him and the semi-sturdy door behind him, he’s sure he’d be collapsed on the ground in a boneless heap. Greyjoy lifts his head from where he had bent to press his muzzle against Kor’s neck, breathing evening out with every exhale. He wishes he could say the same, but he still feels like the air was knocked out of his lungs after that debacle. 

Kor looks up at him, watching Greyjoy as he wipes sweat off his brow with the back of the paw  _ not _ covered in their release. He’s got a lazy smile on his face, looking like he did when they’d last basked in the afterglow together. It’s the sort of smile someone has after indulging in a good meal. Of course he looks like that after sex. It’s only fitting of the cocky sailor.

Kor rolls his eyes when Greyjoy turns his back on him, the hound loping across the shack to where a few old beach towels are stacked in the corner. A moment later, Greyjoy is tossing a towel at him, which Kor uses to wipe the sweat off his orange fur and the come from his chest and softening cock. It feels good to be at least semi-clean after a romp. This is as good as he’s going to get considering there’s no shower or tub in the shack, and the closest body of water is the ocean, which wouldn’t help them clean up at all. 

He folds the towel up and tosses it on the bed before he reaches down to scoop his clothes off the floor. Sand clings to the fabric of his jeans and his shirt, though his underwear (which he doesn’t remember himself or Greyjoy taking off but, well, he was definitely a bit preoccupied sense-wise earlier) is luckily on top of those, so it doesn’t seem like much sand is clinging to it, if any. Kor takes the time to dress, pulling his underwear and then his pants on, when Greyjoy pipes up in front of him.

“So, was it good for ya?” The hound teases, brows waggling at him in a salacious manner. Kor has to suppress rolling his eyes at his statement and instead sticks his tongue out at his friend as he straightens up with shirt in hand. 

“Do you even have to ask?” 

“Oi! Gotta make sure m’partners are satisfied with the service, that’s all!” 

“The service?” Kor barks out a laugh at him. He tugs his shirt on over his head and pulls his hair out where it bunched underneath the collar. “Did you start prostituting yourself? Is there another profession of yours I don’t know about?”

Greyjoy stops tying the front of his shirt up to wag a finger at him. “As much as I know folks would  _ love _ to pay for all  _ this _ ,” he pauses to wave his paws down his half-clothed figure, which wrings another laugh out of Kor, “These goods are  _ not _ fer sale, thank ya very much!” 

Kor shakes his head, unable to stop the smile that splits his muzzle at his friend’s antics. He grabs the jacket he’d brought with him off the floor and shrugs it on, thankful for the warmth it brings from the cool sea air that is ever present in the shack. He waits by the door for Greyjoy to finish putting his clothes back on, raking his claws through his hair to work through the kinks that naturally occur when he’s getting frisky. By the time he’s managed to tame the mane, Greyjoy is winding his scarf around his neck, the last bit of his ensemble. 

“Now, before round two,” Greyjoy says as he lopes towards him to sling an arm around his shoulders, “Why don’t we go rustle up some grub, lil’ guppy?” 

Kor likes the way Greyjoy grins at him, loves the way his claws scratch gently at his scalp as he places his paw on the top of his head, love the promise in his words even more than that. 

“I say that’s a great idea.”

Round two can’t get here fast enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi!! I'm so glad you finished this, thank you for reading, please let me know what you think as this is my FIRST FURFIC!! You can catch me @ furwaiiey on FA and twitter ;3c !! Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you next time !! Bye bye !!


End file.
